“Is that okay? Do you want me to just take Charlie to your place?” he asked. I sighed, knowing his confusion was a result of my mood.
“No, come on in. She made lasagna. It’s really good. Just keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake Charlie up.”
I brought him through, both of us as nervous as high school virgins on prom night as we entered the kitchen. I was not sure where my concern came from, though, because as soon as we were in the same room with Fiona, she instantly made everyone more comfortable. I kept to the side, letting Fee and Match sitat the table. He didn’t need me hovering over him when he was already nervous.
He dug into the food with a vigor I understood, and I loved the smile on Fiona’s face at the sight of him wolfing down her meal. At that moment, I knew I would give her anything she asked for if she would smile at me like that. Rubbing a fist over my chest, I tried to ignore that feeling as I listened in on their conversation.
Fiona had a quiet way about her. She asked enough questions to keep the conversation going, but never pried. In the few minutes they spent together, she had gotten more information out of Match than any of us ever had. She was calm and understanding. There was no judgment or avarice in her gaze when he spoke with her. She was a completely different breed than the women who frequented the clubhouse.
Match cleaned his plate, and I was all too happy to get him and Charlie out of the apartment. The idea of alone time with Fiona was an ache in my gut, at that point. I felt like I had been waiting an eternity for it. Once she closed the door behind them, I noticed her nervousness as she saw me, still in her apartment.
Feigning a calm I didn’t feel, I maneuvered her over to the couch and turned on the first movie I could think of. I was pleased to learn she was a fan ofDie Hardas well, and we watched the movie together, making idle chitchat before falling into a companionable silence. I was acutely aware of how close she was to me, that honey vanilla scent hovering in the air around her. When I felt Fiona shift on the couch, I was both surprised and pleased to see her falling asleep, her head naturally drifting to my shoulder.
I held my body stock-still, not wanting to wake her up. The credits rolled, and she was fast asleep against me, puffs of breath hitting my neck. As gently as I could, I pulled her into my armsand lifted her off the couch. As I brought her into the bedroom and laid her down, I took my time to study the space.
I pulled the dark comforter over her small form, took her glasses off, and couldn’t resist touching her cheek as she snuggled into the bed. The aqua sheets made her red hair and fair skin pop. I looked around the space, taking in the different art pieces she had on the walls and the antique vanity sitting in the corner. Walking over to it, I took in the small collection of bottles she had out, unsurprised to see mostly lotions and perfume rather than makeup.
It was obvious that Fiona had gone to great lengths to put together her personal space, curating an area that was cozy and welcoming, yet eclectic and unique as well. With every extra minute I got to spend near her, I felt like another layer was revealed. It seemed like Fiona approached most tasks with equal levels of passion and dedication. A thrill went down my spine at the idea of that attention focused on me.
Returning to the couch, I hung my head in my hands. I felt like a creep, stalking around her apartment while she slept, seeing visions of copper eyes watching me. I checked my phone to make sure Charlie got home and Match was back on duty. Once that was confirmed, I leaned back, my legs stretched out in front of me, not even attempting to fit on the couch. I rested my head against the blanket Fiona had used, falling asleep with a belly full of lasagna, surrounded by her scent.
A scream in the middle of the night had me jumping upright, my hand reaching for my gun in a matter of seconds. I checked the door first, surprised to see it was still locked from the inside, with the bolts and chain in place. Whimpering sounds came from the bedroom. I slid the gun back into my holster and headed over there.
Fiona was having a nightmare. She had thrown the blankets off and was thrashing on the bed. Her brow was furrowed, and it killed me to see her like that. Not wanting to scare Fiona, instead of hovering over her, I decided to sit on the other side of the bed and try to wake her up. I gently cupped her shoulder, trying to coax her awake, muttering soothing words in a low tone.
Finally, she jerked forward, pulling herself to an upright position as her eyes looked around the room wildly. I sat still, letting her get resituated. I watched as she raised her shaking hands to her face, then around her throat, before fisting them in the blankets at her side.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she croaked out, her voice hoarse from sleep and her earlier injury.
“Don’t worry about that. Are you okay? Do you need water? Or do you want to talk about whatever woke you?” I asked, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Just a nightmare. I’m okay, thank you,” she said, her voice sounding small. I stayed where I was as she resettled herself in the bed. I was hesitant to leave, and that must have shown, because I felt her hand on my arm.
“Do you mind staying? At least until I fall asleep?” she asked, and I could see how much it took for her to ask that.
“Whatever you need, darlin’,” I replied, slowly untying my boots before swinging my legs up onto the bed. I lay next to her, on top of the blanket, and was relieved when she finally relaxed back into the bed. I promised myself that I would stay awake, stay vigilant, and watch over her.
That close, though, her body radiated warmth, and the whole room smelled like her. Parts of me that I never knew were missing clicked into place as she turned over to rest her head against my chest. Without my control, I slipped into a deep sleep, with Fiona tucked into my side.
Chapter 7
Fiona
It had been over two weeks since my attack. I was able to return to work shortly after, but since Theo was still on the run, I was assigned my own bodyguards. At first, I felt uncomfortable with all the fuss, denying any need for it. Then I had my first day back at work. When it was time to leave the office, I stood frozen in the lobby, the dark pavement seeming miles longer than usual. Before I could work up a good panic, Bash stepped into view. The relief I felt at seeing him waiting outside to walk me to my car was immeasurable.
Since then, we had developed a routine of sorts. Usually, Match was with me in the morning. I always made sure to make breakfast since he was a bottomless pit. He would come up for food and coffee, then he followed me to the office, not riding away until I texted that I was on my floor. Match and I developed an easy relationship. He felt like a younger brother to me.
It took some time, but eventually, he started to open up and share bits and pieces about his past with me. Match was raised in the foster care system, eventually finishing high school in a group home for teenagers. Right after graduation, he began prospecting with the Reaper’s Guard, and was patched in very recently.
We both liked comic books, which led Match to reveal his talent for drawing. It was something he hadn’t shared withanyone, and I could tell by how pink his ears got whenever we talked that he was extremely protective of it. It took a lot of badgering, but finally, he brought his sketchbook over to show me. I was blown away.
My mornings with Match were easy. They helped me get ready for the day. His presence was unthreatening and entertaining. The evenings, though, when I left my building and found Bash waiting for me, felt completely different. Especially after I forced him to sleep next to me because I had a nightmare. As embarrassed as I was, it was the best night’s sleep I had gotten in years. Having him next to me made me feel protected and cared for, surrounded by his strength.
I didn’t have much experience with men, especially anyone like Bash. The past few years, there were male coworkers or roommates I got along with, but I never really entertained the idea of anything sexual or romantic with them. I was always so busy with work or school, it just never fell high enough on my list of priorities.
Dating in high school was enough to sour me on the whole experience. Growing up, I mostly kept to myself. It was a small town, and everyone was in everyone else’s business. It wasn’t exactly like my mom and dad were glowing examples of a good relationship. It became abundantly clear that neither of my parents was truly committed to the other, frequently stepping out and having affairs.
I got jumped in school a few times by pissed off kids because my mom had somehow interfered in their parents’ marriage. Then, as I got older, my mom’s reputation for being easy was transposed onto me. The one time I did try to date, it was incredibly short-lived. I was a sophomore in high school, and there was a boy, Marty, in the grade above me who started showing interest in me.
